


Batten Down The Hatches

by cuddlesorviolence



Series: In This World or The Next [2]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Gen, Not Thalmor Friendly but Thalmor Understanding, Thalmor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-10
Updated: 2015-02-10
Packaged: 2018-03-10 05:04:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3277754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuddlesorviolence/pseuds/cuddlesorviolence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So let's review. I'm in a country I've been to a total of four times, I can't use magic to defend myself, I'm wearing the ill-fitting armour of what the locals see as an invading army and I'm being hunted by former friends and colleagues who know how I think and fight and are determined to catch me and throw me in the darkest dungeon the Thalmor have.</p><p>This looks bad.</p><p>(What happens when a Bosmer who has loyally served the Thalmor for years before having a crisis of faith turns out to be the Dragonborn? This. This is what happens.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Batten Down The Hatches

**Author's Note:**

> This story is the first time I've actually posted fanfic for about 5-6 years now. Any and all input would be appreciated. 
> 
> First chapter is the traditional Helgen experience, original content and my take on the various quests will occur soon.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens when you go from being a Thalmor soldier with the best equipment and magical proficiency to someone who can barely use an iron sword and can only manage novice spells? 
> 
> You realise that the world is not kind to you and you have to adapt accordingly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Liberties have been taken with the usage of magicka here. I've described casting as I personally see it, which might differ with how others do. The reason for the diminished magicka pool will become clear in a few chapters, but there *is* a reason.

**_17th Last Seed, Sundas, 4E201_**  
  
  
The gentle rocking of the cart was the first thing to stir him. The first thing to surprise him was the fact he was alive. Shaking his messy sandy brown hair off his face, Silgorn looked up.

_Well this is deeply unpleasant. Bound, cracking headache, aching leg and there's a Nord staring at me. The torture rack might have been a nicer fate._  
  
Silgorn tuned the blond Nord's chatter out as he ran a mental inventory. He was wearing the same rags that he had been wearing whilst being transported by the Thalmor before he had made a dive off a cliff into a surprisingly deep snowbank. Unfortunately in that snowbank had been an Imperial scout, who was none too pleased by a falling Bosmer giving away his position. Silgorn wasn't certain what had happened next, but seeing as he was in an Imperial cart with the leader of the Stormcloak rebellion and one of his lieutenants presumably being taken to his execution, it clearly hadn't gone well.  
  
 _Axe and Dagger should have been straight down after me. I should be trudging along the path whilst they bracket me and shove me about and call me a traitor. At the very least, they should have reclaimed me from the Imperials. Or is this their idea of allowing me to escape? Trade a long stay in Elenwen's captivity for a quick end?_ Silgorn snorted. _At least this way should be quicker than languishing in a Dominion dungeon. Less painful too, one would hope._

* * *

Silgorn slammed the door shut behind him once Hadvar had entered, taking a moment to catch his breath and to try and process what had just happened.   
  
_A dragon. A sodding dragon. There are rocks falling from the sky, a dragon breathing fire and Elenwen was here. Death would have been easier._

Silgorn waited for the Imperial Nord, Hadvar, to cut his bonds whilst he scanned the room. A few iron swords were on a rack, but nothing of quality. Silgorn was used to Elven or Glass quality from his time as an Arrow and anything less was unheard of. Thankfully due to his knowledge of Conjuration, Silgorn knew how to summon a bow or dagger and as such there shouldn't be much of a problem.  
  
"There you go" Hadvar said as he cut the ropes. "Take a look around, find some gear. I'm going to see what I can do about these burns." As Hadvar went searching for some potions, Silgorn moved to the nearest chest and found some light armour close to his size. The boots were a bit big for him but when lined with his footwraps they became wearable. Searching through the other chests, Silgorn found a few septims but nothing more. Stowing them in a pouch on his belt, Silgorn looked around again for any sign of more armour.  
  
 _Pity. Gloves at least would be appreciated, or a helmet. Still, I have spells for armour which are far superior to this padded leather._

Clearing his head, Silgorn focused and brought the spell _Ironflesh_ to the forefront of his mind, manifesting as a collection of blue-green shapes coalescing in his left hand. Silgorn formed a fist around the shapes and waited for the blue glow to spread around his body and leave an iron-like skin on him before releasing his fist. What happened was a sharp pain in his hand, and no glow. His magicka pool felt undepleted but still felt far smaller than Silgorn was used to. He frowned and brought a different spell to mind, _Bound Bow_ , to at least arm himself with his weapon of choice. The purple vortex appeared in his hand and once again Silgorn clenched his fist, pulled down his arm and then released. Instead of the sound of displaced air and the usual ethereal bow appearing to be grabbed, there was once again a pain in his hand. 

_The Thalmor must have limited my magicka pool before transporting me. I haven't been this weak since my first week as an Arrow. I might be able to manage a Bound Sword but I'd be useless afterwards. I'll have to rely on my limited skill with blades and try and keep moving to avoid getting hit. A few good blows and I'll be down.  
_

Realising that, Silgorn hesitantly reached for one of the iron swords and strapped it to his side. The lack of a proper scabbard and it tapping against his leg unnerved him.  
  
"Come on elf. We should get moving." Hadvar's voice was gruff but not unkind. "And keep that thing drawn, there's no telling who we'll run into down here." With that the Nord opened the gate and walked down the hallway, weapon drawn and wary. When they both reached the next gate, they saw Stormcloaks through the bars. Before Silgorn could crouch in the darkness and suggest waiting for them to leave, Hadvar had opened the gate and charged at them.  
  
Following him in, Silgorn charged at a Stormcloak, slashing down diagonally at their chest, the iron sword barely cutting through the leather jerkin. The Stormcloak reeled back and that was the opportunity Silgorn needed to thrust forward and impale the Stormcloak on his blade. Hearing a growl and footsteps from his right, Silgorn yanked the blade out of the dying Nord and raised it to block whatever blade was coming. The Stormcloak's axe bounced off his blade and as the Stormcloak pulled back to strike again, Silgorn swung upwards at the Stormcloak, hitting him in the helmet with the pommel of his sword. The Stormcloak hit the ground with a thud, and Silgorn wasted no time stabbing him in the chest to keep him down. He turned to see if there were any other hostiles.  
  
 _I'm too slow. I'm not used to the balance or reach of this material, it's all off. I need to find some daggers or, even better, a bow. Though even with the difference in quality, I should be stronger than this. I must have been hit with something that damaged my stamina as well.  
_

Upon seeing only Hadvar left standing, Silgorn began to search the bodies, stealing some gloves off a female Stormcloak whom Hadvar had bested. Hadvar made a sound of disapproval at the act, but did not intervene. When Silgorn was finished, they proceeded downstairs to find a storage room crawling with Stormcloaks. The pair cleared out the room and collecting some supplies for their trouble. Silgorn grabbed some satchels and shoved them in a knapsack before turning to Hadvar to ask something which was bugging him.  
  
"Hadvar, why are there so many of those rebels here? The two caravans that brought us in couldn't have fit this many people."

"The caravans you saw were just the ones with the high value targets on. We've been rounding up Stormcloaks near the border for weeks now. Any Stormcloaks that ventured into Falkreath Hold were brought here for questioning and imprisonment. The plan was to draw out one of Ulfric's high command to investigate, I never thought we'd manage to bag Ulfric himself." Hadvar seemed proud of the Imperial's success before remembering how it had ended. "I don't think even General Tullius planned for a dragon attack though."

Silgorn gave a smirk of amusement before continuing. "I'm assuming the questioning wasn't a gentle 'please tell us what we want to know?' and more of a "apply lightning until answers are forthcoming". At this Hadvar seemed to stop and squirm before moving onwards.

"It's a sad necessity in these times." said Hadvar, looking pained.

_He's probably one of those "Death or Glory" Nordic types. Torture probably upsets his delicate sensibilities.Then again, I don't suppose the Legion is efficient as we are.  
_

Silgorn paused. Once again he'd fallen into the trap of thinking he was still aligned with the Thalmor. That sort of mind-set could be deadly. They were his foes now, not friends. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Silgorn followed Hadvar on.

* * *

After tearing through the fortress' large basement teeming with  Stormcloak soldiers the two allies made their way into a hidden cave network. After dealing with a nest of spiders larger than any Silgorn had seen since leaving Valenwood fourteen years prior, the Bosmer and the Nord finally left the expansive cave system into the open air.  Hadvar had suggested that they split up and Silgorn meet him in Riverwood, a small village a few hours to the north east, for food and shelter. The Nord was being surprisingly trusting of someone whom not four hours ago, he had sent to the chopping block. Silgorn agreed, deciding to take the cross country path rather than sticking to the roads like Hadvar planned.

_I need to be careful. Axe and Dagger will have probably seen the convoy and worked out where I was headed. I probably only have a day or two before they catch up to Helgen. Unless they get sloppy and assume one of the many burnt corpses is mine, they'll start tracking me. From there they'll have to guess where I was headed. Hopefully Dagger will assume I've followed standard protocol and headed for the nearest big town rather than village._

Silgorn began going through the contents of his knapsack, looking at what supplies he had for the journey ahead. He'd continued looting Stormcloaks throughout the keep, and had a relatively undamaged set of Stormcloak armour for disguise purposes, as well as a collection of daggers and axes for selling on later. Silgorn had also acquired a set of mage robes and a hood, both of which had useful magicka boosting and recharging enchantments on them which might help with his bound magicka pool.

Happily Silgorn had managed to find a long bow and some iron arrows, meaning he wasn't as woefully unequipped as before. He'd slung the quiver along his belt to allow easier access and hadn't put the bow down since he'd found it. His coinpurse was sparse but had enough Septims to get him a night at any decent inn. He'd devoted a satchel to venom he'd collected from the spiders using empty potion bottles. The remainder of the space was taken up with some uncooked meat and a bear hide from an unfortunate bear which had made the mistake of blocking the exit to Helgen.

Silgorn took an empty satchel from the bag and affixed it next to his coin-purse, intending to use it to gather alchemy ingredients along the way to Riverwood. He then grabbed the book that he'd found lying around, some nonsense about the Dragonborn whatever that was, and began to write at the back of it.  
  
 ** _17th Last Seed, Sundas, 4E201_**  
 _I'm in a country I've been to a total of four times, I can't use magic to defend myself, I'm wearing the ill-fitting armour of what some of the locals see as an occupying army and I'm being hunted by former friends and colleagues who know how I think and fight and are determined to catch me and throw me in the darkest dungeon the Thalmor have._

_~~This looks bad.~~ _


End file.
